carry on, my wayward son
by abbyli
Summary: Finally freed from slavery, Dean returns to District 12 to discover that a rebellion has been cooking up in his absence and he is asked to help lead it. He tries to reconnect with the ones that he left behind and deal with the fact that there are always more Games to play in the span of a lifetime. Sequel to "The Seventy Fourth Annual Hunger Games".
1. the phone call

_**the phone call**_

* * *

**For anyone who is just tuning in, go back and read "The Seventy-Fourth Annual Hunger Games" because if you don't, you will be so lost while reading this. **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

He stared at the television, watching. Watching and waiting.

Meg's hand delved into the bowl, trembling and frightened. He couldn't remember ever seeing her like this before.

Her hand pulled a name. She held it up to the light. Her eyes darted over the small piece of paper, looking like a fearful zebra cornered by the lions.

"Our District 12 Tributes, Rebecca Login and Val Tilner!"

It was then when he allowed himself to breathe again.

It hurt even more to breathe.

The cameras darted over the audience, taking in their reactions. Well, they weren't really an audience. They were more like prisoners.

He saw his brother, standing in the back with the rest of the eighteen year old boys. He had really shot up in the past few years, towering over the rest of the boys with his six foot tall frame. His dark hair was longer with bangs that flopped over his forehead. Of course, his eyes were still those knee weakening puppy dog eyes.

Azazel had kept his word.

Sam was safe.

And that was all that mattered.

**. . .**

"Ladies and gentlemen! May I give you the Victor of the Eightieth Annual Hunger Games, District 4's Cale Evvert!"

He slumped tiredly against the wall, his eyes finally leaving the monitors. He could feel Bobby's gaze on him and chose to ignore it.

He couldn't. He just couldn't.

It had been six years since his win. Six long years. And each year, he had mentored two tributes along with Bobby and Jo, and watched them die. Some had died immediately in the bloodbath and some had been smart and escaped into the woods, only to be taken down by disease or starvation.

He had hoped...

Azazel had succeeded.

The tiger was too tired to roar anymore.

With every passing year, he could feel another piece of himself starting to break away. With each year, he started to care less and less.

The first touch of the bottle to his lips had felt so foreign. The last thing he had wanted was to become like Bobby, so strung out on alcohol that he couldn't see straight.

But after that first Games, it did work. It dulled the pain and the anguish.

And that was how it went from then on.

**. . .**

The blonde had grown into a beautiful young woman. He still remembered her as that gangly sixteen year old from the arena but now, she was a beauty.

And he never spoke to her unless he had too. Most of the mentoring went between him and Bobby, Jo and Bobby.

He wouldn't speak to her. He couldn't. He couldn't bear to see the disappointment in her eyes.

**. . .**

It was nearly a month after the 80th Hunger Games had come to an end when Sam got the call.

The phone rang early, pulling Sam out of his early morning doze. He sighed tiredly, pulling himself out of bed, knowing that his father wasn't going to even hear it, let alone get up and answer it.

"Hello?"

"Hello, is this Sam Winchester?"

"Yes, it is. Who's calling?"

"Mr. Winchester, my name is Angus Crowley, personal aide to President Azazel. You are invited to the Capitol to come and escort your brother, Dean Winchester back to District 12. There will be a car for you tomorrow morning. You and your brother's mentor Robert Singer will be brought in to the mountains on a tribute train. Once there, you will be greeted by me and then you will be brought to your brother. He is free to go."

Dean? Free to go? What the hell-?

"Wait a minute! What are you talking about-?" But he was talking to a dial tone.

Sam stared at the phone still clenched in his hand for several minutes before he returned it to it's cradle. He reached out and snatched his thick down coat off of the rack, slipping it on and shoving his feet into Dean's old hunting boots. He stopped at the door, taking a deep breath before running out and down the crosswalk in the Victor's Village, heading for a certain house that was inhabited by a certain drunk.

* * *

**Okay, I think this is the crappiest prologue ever. There are so many holes, so many questions and it can drive a person crazy. And that's why I love it. I know, I am just a horrible person when it comes to cliffhangers.**

**There is going to be a lot of lead in for everything that has happened in the six years that Dean has been kept prisoner at the Capitol. Sam is going to be learning a lot, especially when he gets to the Capitol to pick him up. I left this chapter so open-ended so you can make your own assumptions about what happened. But I do assure you, all of these questions will be answered in the upcoming chapters. **

**One more thing before I finally shut up, more characters from the show will be showing up, taking the places of characters in the books. I introduced Crowley here but I know he doesn't take the place of any character of the books. **

**Next chapter- finally, some Bobby/Sam scenes! And **_**finally,**_** Dean and Sam's reunion! P.S. Little teaser...there's gonna be a wedding soon! Can you guess between who? **

**Reviews are much appreciated, my lovelies! **


	2. brothers

_**brothers**_

* * *

He found Bobby stretched out across his musty sofa, knife clenched in one hand and a bottle of bourbon in the other. Ever since Dean's Games, he had moved from white liquor to the even better stuff. He said once that it kept him drunker longer.

"Mr. Singer?" He gently prodded Bobby's boot clad foot. "Bobby?

Bobby gave a grunt and rolled over onto his side, never loosing his grip on the knife and the bottle. Sam gave it a few more tries before giving up on being gentle.

He walked over to the sink and filled up a glass full of icy water. Remaining a safe distance away, he tossed the water right into Bobby's face.

Like a lion being awakened from his slumber, Bobby came up swinging and roaring. It took him nearly five minutes to settle down before he focused on who had accosted him out of his drunken sleep.

"Sam, what the hell are you doing here?" he grumbled, grabbing a dirty hand towel and wiping his face with it.

"Bobby, I got a phone call from someone named Angus Crowley-"

"Angus Crowley?" Bobby turned, staring at him. "What did he say?"

"He, uh, he said that Dean had been released from his deal and that we needed to come to the Capitol and pick him up. They were sending a car for me and you and then we would be taken to the Capitol."

Bobby continued to stare at the younger Winchester, the water still dripping from his scraggly beard and long hair, trickling down his face and onto his filthy shirt. He took a deep breath, slowly shaking his head.

"Why that little..."

"Bobby, what does this mean?!" Sam nearly shouted. "What was this Crowley guy talking about?"

"It means your brother sold himself into slavery. And I think I know why."

* * *

The young man sat on the bench, staring straight ahead. The elder man lowered himself down beside him, planting a hand on his shoulder for a second before pulling it away.

"Do you really believe that, Bobby?" Sam whispered, his chin resting on his folded hands.

Bobby gave him a soft look before turning his gaze away. "I really do, Sam."

"I hardly dared to hope," he murmured. "I never, ever believed that Dean could actually do that to us on his own accord."

"I think that that was Azazel's plan. To 'silence the tiger'," muttered Bobby as he took a long swig from his bottle. "And it succeeded."

"Why didn't Azazel just-(Sam swallowed thickly)-why didn't he just kill him?"

"Because he would create a martyr," answered Bobby. "If he touched Dean or Jo, he would have created a martyr and the rebellion would have had a kickstart."

"But why?" Sam asked again. "Why did he do it? I would have thought that Dean would have just spit in his face."

"To protect you, of course," Bobby said, looking back over his shoulder at the younger man. "I can only imagine what Azazel threatened to do to you and your dad if Dean didn't abide to his will."

Sam took a deep breath, running a tired hand through his unruly locks. "I miss him so much, Bobby."

"I know you do, kid."

"And I can't wait to get him back home. He's missed a lot in these six years."

* * *

The ride to the Capitol took nearly a day. The car had showed up early, near seven that following morning. Sam had stepped out of the house, leaving behind a note for John explaining that he would be back in a couple of days but not mentioning Dean. He couldn't dare to get his father's hopes up.

It was startling, how big it was. Every single building splintered the sky, blistering in the sunlight.

When the train finally pulled to a stop at the station, there was another guard waiting with a balding man that looked around his mid forties.

"Crowley," Bobby hissed under his breath to Sam as they stepped off onto the platform.

"Hello again, Bobby," Crowley nodded before approaching Sam. "Mr. Winchester?"

"Yes."

"Both of you, come with me. We'll take you to your brother."

Sam looked over his shoulder at Bobby. Bobby gave a small nod, reassuring him slightly. No harm could come to them. Not here, not now. Sam was sure though that Azazel had entertained the notion of having them kidnapped.

The next ride took an hour. The car ride was eerily silent, neither man saying a word all the way there. Sam couldn't help the unease though as they got closer and closer to where Dean was.

"Does Dean know that we're coming?" he finally asked once they pulled up to a building that he recognized as the Training Center. He had seen several shots of it during promos for the Hunger Games on the television. The penthouse... where Dean had stayed.

"No, he does not. He does not know that he is being released today as a matter of fact," answered Crowley, not looking up from the book he was holding.

"Why not?" Bobby's voice was a low snarl.

"That is none of your concern, Bobby," Crowley shot back, his voice laced with as much malice as Bobby's.

"Just take us to my brother," Sam intercut, stepping between the two men. Crowley's beady eyes went up to Sam, realizing that the kid towered at least a foot over him.

"Follow me."

* * *

But it wasn't the penthouse that they were brought too.

It was the basement.

There were a few windows down there but of course, they were covered in bars. The set up looked pretty decent but...

Crowley led the two to the door and hit a few buttons on the control keyboard. With that, the door released and opened a few inches. He turned slightly, looking back at Bobby and Sam.

"Get him out of here by six tonight, all right? Even though I am sure you aren't sticking around too long."

With that, the man headed back up the stairs and disappeared through another set of doors.

Sam watched him go for a second, surprised that Dean wasn't very heavily guarded. Azazel must have had something big over him to get him to fully cooperate.

"Go on, you idjit," muttered Bobby, giving him a gentle shove through the door. Sam nearly tripped over the threshold and looked around the room.

"Dean?"

His brother was curled up on the bed, fast asleep. He had a thin blanket covering him, a threadbare pillow underneath his head. Sam could tell that his brother was in the midst of a dream by the way his face twitched as he slept. And it wasn't a good dream.

Sam slipped across the carpet, lowering himself down onto his knees beside the bed. He gently touched Dean's shoulder, murmuring his name and trying to ease him out of the nightmare.

"Dean?" he murmured again. "Dean, wake up."

That did it.

Dean woke with a start, almost shooting right off of the bed. He started violently, scooting back on the bed and staring with wide eyes at his brother.

"No, no! No, you're not real."

Sam let out a gust of breath before taking a cautious step towards his brother. "Dean, I am very real," he whispered. "Look at me."

Dean finally did look at him, calming breaths starting to overtake him.

"Sammy?"

A smile like the rising sun light up Sam's face. "Yeah, Dean. It's me."

Dean rose slowly, his eyes darting over his brother. The last time he had seen him, Sam had barely come up to his shoulder. Now he towered a good six inches over him.

"You're all grown up," he whispered. "Oh, my God..." Dean had seen Sam on the television several times at the Reapings for the past six years and had seen him getting taller and growing older. But now, at this exact moment, standing a mere three feet away from him...

It was Sam who made the first move. He took Dean into his arms, holding him in a tight embrace. Dean returned it with as much valor, gripping the back of his brother's jacket.

"Damn it, I have missed you," Sam sighed once they finally released each other.

"You have no idea, kid," Dean replied. He finally noticed Bobby in the room. "Hey, Bobby," he said, eyeing his former mentor warily.

"Tiger," Bobby nodded. "You look a little thin."

Sam started to laugh. Even Dean relaxed a little. "Wasn't I always?"

Bobby allowed a small smile to crack his lips. He held out an arm and gestured to the boys. "Let's put an intermission on this chick flick and get the hell out of here."

* * *

"Are you all right? Really?"

Sam chuckled. "Yeah, I'm fine. We are still living in the Victor's Village. We have all the benefits of a victor. Except, no victor living with us. That's all going to change now, of course."

Dean chuckled dryly, running a tired hand through his hair. He leaned his head back against the comfortable headrest of his chair and closed his eyes.

"Are you tired?"

"Yeah. I didn't sleep much in there."

"Dean?"

"Yeah, Sammy?"

"Why?"

Dean shook his head, finally opening his eyes. "Not now, Sammy. Not here."

Sam nodded, understanding.

"How is everyone at home? How's Dad?"

"He's good. He misses you so much. He never really bought that you would run off like that."

"That's Dad for you," said Dean, unable to hide the small smile on his lips.

"He doesn't know I'm here, actually."

"What?! Sam, are you out of your mind?! He's probably thinking that you disappeared too!"

"Dean, calm down. I left him a note telling him that I would be back in a day or so. I've left before but that was to stay with-" Sam then clammed up, feelng a red tinge starting to spread across his face. Dean jumped on that.

"Wait a minute, wait a minute. To stay with who?" Dean sat up, staring avidly at his brother.

Sam started to chuckle quietly before continuing on. "Do you remember Sarah Blake?"

"Sure, Lisa's little cousin-wait a sec-no!"

"Yes. And she's not so little anymore. We've been seeing quite a bit of each other for the last two years," Sam smiled, looking quite like the cat that swallowed the canary. Or actually, the canary that got lucky.

"What are you saying?" asked Dean.

"We're getting married next month."

That struck his brother mute. Dean stared for almost a full minute before saying "Do you have to get married?"

"What? No! We want to get married. Get your mind out of the gutter."

Dean still couldn't believe his ears. "Wow...Little Sammy getting married. Wow..."

"Dean!"

"Sorry."

"Say something else besides that."

"Sorry, it's just that I'm having a hard time wrapping my mind around it. Do you-(he swallowed)-do you love her?"

A sweet smile crossed Sam's lips. "Very much so."

"Does she love you?"

That was when Dean saw Sam's eyes sparkle. In truth, he had never seen his baby brother look so happy before in his whole entire life.

"Yes, I believe she does."

Dean took a deep breath. "Well, then I am happy for you." He then peered at him out of the corner of his eye. "Are you sure she's not after you for your body?" He poked him playfully in the side. Sam swatted his hand away, both of them laughing.

Damn, it felt weird to laugh.

* * *

There was a light knock on his compartment door. Dean slowly got up from his chair and opened it, finding Bobby's grizzly bear face looking back at him.

"Tiger, let's take a walk," he said, cocking his head to the side. The train had come to a stop on the tracks for a short break and the passengers were free to get off and walk around. Dean followed Bobby to the caboose of the train and they both hopped off the side rails, landing softly in the crunchy grass.

"What's going on, Bobby?" Dean asked quietly, already knowing what was coming.

"Tell me what happened," said the elder victor, his eyes blazing with fire. He wasn't about to take no for an answer. "Tell me why the hell you disappeared into the Capitol for six years."

"Bobby, I can't," Dean whispered, looking away.

The older man glared. "Don't lie to me, kid." He took in Dean's form. The last time he had seen the younger man was a two months before at the 80th Games. They had mentored a fourteen year old girl and a sixteen year old boy and had watched them both die at the Bloodbath. Even then, even before at the last six Games since his own, he had never seen Dean look so broken. Literally broken.

That was when the young man gave in.

"Bobby, he-"

"Who? Azazel?"

The boy nodded slightly. "Yes."

Bobby took a cautious step forward, his grey eyes boring into Dean's emeralds. "What did he do, Dean? What exactly did he threaten?"

Dean took another breath. "He threatened to fix the Reaping."

That was all that Bobby needed to hear.

"Oh, God..."

"He threatened to fix the Reaping and I would have had to mentor my own brother in the Third Quarter Quell. Bobby, I can't even imagine having to do that. Especially after what had happened that year."

The Third Quarter Quell had been especially bloody. The winner had come out as a District 5 girl who had been grievously injured and had died less than a week later after her win. They had had their winner, she just didn't live too long to enjoy it. The District 12 tributes had died twenty minutes in at the Bloodbath. No amount of mentorin from Bobby, Dean, or Jo had managed to make those Seam kids understand what really needed to be done.

The only one that come a great distance was during the 79th Games. It was a girl named Izabet Porter, sixteen years old. She had managed to make it to the final eight but a rainstorm filled with lightening bolts had struck and she had been killed. But she had had a chance. A real chance.

Bobby shook his head, both of them coming out of their thoughts. "I'm so sorry, tiger. I never even imagined-"

"It's okay."

"No, it's not," he interrupted. "It's not okay. You lost six years of your life because of that-that dick. You lost six years. You didn't get to see Sam grow up."

"No, I didn't. And I know I am viewed as a traitor by most of District 12."

"You'd be surprised," Bobby sighed. "Tiger, you need to tell Sam about what happened."

Dean shook his head. "No."

"What?"

"No, he can't know about this. He would only blame himself," Dean sighed. "Besides, it's over and done with. Sam's got so much to look forward too. He's getting married, which I still can't wrap my mind around, he's finally out of the Reapings. He doesn't need to know."

"Dean-"

"No, Bobby!"

"All right." Bobby sighed, rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hand. "But Sam's not a little kid anymore. He's an adult and he will find out about this, one way or another."

* * *

The rest of the ride back to District 12 passed by in a blur. Sam spent most of it in Dean's compartment, regaling him with details of the people back home. Dean didn't mind. He loved the sound of his brother's voice.

The train finally pulled into the station around eight o'clock that following morning. Dean awoke from a very restless sleep filled with images of starving children and burning homes to find Sam lightly tapping on his compartment door.

"Dean? Get up, time to go."

He dressed slowly. He could feel his heart thumping away much faster than normal.

He was downright terrified.

It had been six years since he had seen District 12, other than watching the Reapings on the monitors at the Capitol. It had been six years since his brother's name had come out of that giant glass ball and he had found himself violently volunteering to take his place. It had been six years.

Six years.

The train lurched viciously, coming to a quick standstill. He could hear the steam releasing from the back and knew that it was time.

"Dean?" There was a gentle knock at the door, followed by Sam slowly stepping through. "It's time."

* * *

**Kind of a cliffhanger, I don't know. **

**I know this is marked as a Dean/Jo story but all we've seen is Dean and Sam so far. Lots of Dean and Jo is coming up, as well as a bit of Dean and Lisa. And of course, lots of Sam and Dean. **

**Sammy's getting married! Wedding bells are ringing! I assure you that the chapter where he and Sarah get married is going to be so filled with fluff you wonderful people are going to want to puke rainbows and sunshine. **

**Anyway, thanks so much for all the follows for this story. I love all of you! **


	3. district 12

_**district 12**_

* * *

Boy, did it feel weird to be back.

It had been six years since Dean had stepped foot in the old confines of District 12 and now...now he felt like he was Alice Through the Looking Glass.

It was all so different.

"You ready?"

He gave a shaky nod before allowing himself to meet his brother's gaze. "Yeah," he lied. "I'm ready."

Sam gave him his famous thousand kilowatt smile before clapping his shoulder. "Let's go home, brother."

* * *

The car pulled up the driveway of the Victor's Village home, coming to a standstill a few feet from the front door.

The driver put the car into park, glancing in the rear view mirror at the two young men that sat in the backseat. Bobby, who was next to him, quickly got out and stuck his head back inside.

"Get on home, ya idjits. Your dad's waiting."

And with that, he slammed the door shut and trotted off down the lane towards his own home.

Sam got out of the car and held the door open. "You all right, Dean?"

Dean glanced out the window and up to the house. It stood tall and proud at three stories. A huge wooden front with a beautiful bay window stretched across. It was unlike any home he had ever seen in his life.

Many years ago, a Victor's Village was built in each district. In District 12, only one home had been inhabited for the last thirty one years and that was by Bobby Singer. And now, two more were inhabited.

"Whoa..."

Sam chuckled. "Wait until you see the inside. It's amazing."

"Samuel Marcus Winchester!"

Both brothers jumped violently at the sound of a very familiar voice.

John charged out of the house and down the front stoop, relief and rage mixed in his eyes. He looked just the way that Dean remembered him, still clad in the boots, jeans, and dark sweatshirt, five o'clock shadow, and those light blue eyes.

"Sam, where the _hell _have you been?! I get up and find this note saying that you were going to run an 'errand' and I don't hear from you for three days! If you were still a little kid we'd be going to the woodshed right now!"

"Dad, please hear me out!" Sam protested quickly, gesturing to Dean. "I had to go to the Capitol-"

"The Capitol?! And Bobby went with you?! I ought to-Dean?"

His older and long legged son had just stepped out of the car, his jacket wrapped tightly around his thin frame.

"Hey, Dad," Dean whispered, his eyes on the ground.

John came to a stop about five feet away from his sons, his eyes wide. He didn't move a muscle for a split second before he delicately placed a hand on Dean's thin shoulder. His hand moved up his neck and then came to rest on his cheek. His other hand came up on the other side and his thumbs traced the contours of Dean's cheeks.

Making sure he was real.

"Oh, my God...you're real..."

"Yeah, Dad. I'm real," A smile started to make it's away across Dean's mouth. "It's me." And then John hugged him.

Sam stood off to the side, a tiny smile on his lips. The six years they had waited...it was all worth it right at this very moment.

"You have some real explaining to do," John said after gently pulling away from Dean. "Both of you."

"Yes, Dad," Both brothers said.

* * *

"So how does it feel to be home?"

It was later that night. A meal of roast chicken and broccoli had Dean subdued and nearly unconscious, stretched out across his comfortable new bed. He propped himself up on his elbows and glanced around the room before looking back at his brother.

"The last home that I knew was the Seam. This is the first time I've gotten to enjoy this little place," Dean smiled. "Me likee."

Sam just chuckled, kicking back in a long armchair that stood in the corner. "Well, wait until you see the rest of the house. It's almost like castle."

Dean cracked a weak smile before settling back into the pillows. "Tell me, Sammy. How is everyone? Honestly."

His brother raised an eyebrow. "The whole district has benefited from the double win. The Harvelles have more money than they know what to do with. Ellen Harvelle bought out a small piece of the Hob and turned it into a bar. Bobby's very happy with that."

"Are you serious?" Dean started to laugh. "Jeez, I bet he is."

"Lisa's good. She's just been hunting ever since-well, you know. Her family is well provided for, Jo made sure of that."

Dean opened one eye. "Jo?"

"She sent a bunch of money to Lisa's mom and they were able to rebuild their house. It's still tiny but at least it has four solid walls and a good heating system."

Dean propped himself back up on his elbows before looking his brother's way. "Does Lisa know that Jo did that for her?" he asks.

Sam shakes his head. "No, she doesn't. Jo told me what she did and that Lisa's mom knows that the money came from her but she lied and said that she inherited the money from her father dying in the mines."

"And Lisa bought that?"

"That surprised me too."

"Are they all right? Well fed and clothed?"

"Yeah, Dean, they're fine. This year was Sarah's last year in the bowl as well as mine and they all made it through. I don't think that Daisie really could have handled any of her children going in." Sam grows silent for a few seconds. "Jo's running the bar that Ellen put together. She's brought a lot of business there because of what happened."

"Business?"

"Stupid, get your mind out of the gutter."

"Oh, shut up," Dean chucks a pillow at Sam's head to which he easily deflects. "Tell me about Sarah." He can't help but grin at the way Sam's face lights up whenever he mentions Sarah's name. The boy's got it really bad for this girl...

The next twenty minutes are spent in Sam blathering on and on about the girl. He shows him several pictures that he carries around of her which surprises his brother. He remembers Sarah as a scrawny terrified little mousy haired girl who had just lost her parents from an accident to when she lived in District 3. Now he's looking at pictures of a beautiful brunette beaming from ear to ear as she leans back against his brother's chest.

"Wow, Sammy. I couldn't be happier for you," Dean says after Sam puts away the last photograph. "Forgive me for having trouble wrapping my mind around the fact that my little brother is getting married but still-it is a wonderful thing."

Sam gives him one of those light bulb smiles as he replaces the last photograph in his wallet. "It'll be nice, you know? It's finally over. You're home, all of us don't have to worry about being reaped. We can get on with our lives."

"Yeah, but don't forget that any kid that you have, their name will be in those bowls."

"I know that. But I can't really think about that right now," says Sam.

"Why not? Are you going to have kids?" asks Dean.

Sam shrugs his shoulders. "I don't know. I'd love to be a dad. But right now we're going to focus on us. And who knows? Maybe by then, someone will have done something about this ridiculous situation."

"Ridiculous situation?" repeats Dean.

Sam gives him a half smile. "You know exactly what I mean."

Yeah, actually...he does.

There is a gentle knock at the door before it is pushed open. John's bearded face peeks around. "Sam, Sarah's on the phone."

"Okay," says Sam as he gets to his feet. He turns and casts one more look at his prone brother. "It's so good to have you home again, Dean."

"It's good to be home, Sammy."

Home...

It felt damn good.

Maybe the nightmares could finally cease.

* * *

He takes one delicate step.

The air is so fresh...so clear.

Now _this _was home.

He steps over to the fence and listens for the hum. Of course, there is none and he ducks through the wires. His feet pick up to a jog and then to a full blown run. He goes deeper and deeper into the dimness and loves every minute of it. It's his haven and he is finally back where he belongs.

The tree comes into his view, that familiar divet still there and still covered with dried leaves. He comes to a gentle stop and lifts a trembling hand. He's almost afraid to brush away those leaves for fear that this would be all a dream and that piece of his livelihood wouldn't be there.

It is. The bow rests against the back edge of the trunk, pristine condition. He could guess who had kept it so safe.

He lifts the bow up, his fingers dancing over the string. He plucks it lightly and listens to the singing, sudden tears of relief burning his eyes.

There is a crackling behind him and he doesn't even start.

"And who was going to keep it looking so pretty while you were gone?"

He allows himself to turn around, his eyes still on the bow in his hands. His chin slowly rises and his eyes take in his best friend.

She's now in her mid twenties, obviously. The last time he had seen her it had been the last night of his and Jo's Victory Tour. They had barely spoken the whole time he had been back and even then he had sensed that she knew more than she had let on. It had been later that night that the car had come for him to take him back to the Capitol.

Her dark hair was longer now, pulled back into a sleek and shiny ponytail with some tendrils around her lovely face. Her eyes were wide and bright, her cheeks were fuller and she was obviously healthier than she was six years ago.

And she was probably the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

They stood there for several seconds, silence being their friend. Words didn't even really need to be said, it had always been like that ever since the beginning.

"Do you have any idea how much I have missed you?" he finds himself saying to his best friend.

Lisa continues to gaze at him. She seems like she is trying to memorize every aspect of him, take in every bit of him with her eyes.

And then her own amazing smile stretches across her face. "And do you have any idea how much I have missed you?" she replies. "Damn it, Dean."

And they are in each other's arms in the blink of an eye.

* * *

"I never believed that you would just leave us for the Capitol."

Knowing that it's finally safe to talk out the open, Dean allows himself to relax. He and his best friend sit side by side on the rocks by the tiny creek, watching the water rush over the shiny rocks.

He had never forgotten the beauty of the woods.

"He threatened all of you. He threatened to have the Reaping fixed so Sam's name would get drawn at the Third Quarter Quell and I would have to mentor him."

Lisa stares for a second before she shakes herself out of it. "I wouldn't put it past him, you know."

The corner of his mouth rises slightly. "Yeah, well, that's Azazel for you."

"Dean, you outsmarted him. You made him look like a fool the minute that you held out that arrow head and threatened to take away any chance of them having a victor. Azazel wouldn't react lightly to that."

"Exactly. And instead of taking it out on me where he should have, he was going to take it out on Sam."

"Dean, don't you see?" Lisa cuts in. "Taking it out on Sam _is _taking it out on you! Sam is your weak spot. You volunteered to take his spot when his name came out of the bowl so why wouldn't he do exactly what he did?"

Dean glared at her for a second before turning away, his shoulders hunched. Lisa eyes his back and immediately notices how thin he really is.

"Damn it, Dean. What the hell did they do to you in there?" she murmurs, lightly touching his shoulder. He flinches and she pulls her hand away. "I'm sorry."

He doesn't answer, keeping his back to her. Lisa tries again and delicately places her hand on his shoulder, feeling the bones sticking right up. It's almost sickening how thin he is.

"Let's hunt," she finally whispered, getting to her feet. She pressed his bow into his hands, cocking her head to the side. "How long has it been?"

Dean finally allowed himself to smile, getting to his feet and beginning to follow her back into the woods.

"Too long."

* * *

There was something about the woods that made him realize how beautiful nature really was and all it had to offer.

He let arrow after arrow go, lining them up perfectly in the trunk of the tree. Lisa went over and slowly pulled them out, returning them to him.

"It's like you never left," she murmured, replacing the arrows in the quiver on his back. "Especially since the other holes that you made six years ago are right there in that tree."

Dean rolled his eyes. "It's been six years since I have shot a bow. I thought I had lost my touch."

"Oh, please," Lisa sighed. "You grew up with a bow in your hand. I doubt you could ever lose your touch."

Dean didn't respond to that.

~~~ooo~~~

"There he is! Dean!"

His younger brother dashed out the front door of the house in record speed and grabbed his arm, pulling him back up the walk.

"Sammy, what the hell-?"

"Come on, Dean. I have someone I'd like you to meet," said Sam. It was the familiar puppy dog look that made Dean allow him to yank him the rest of the way.

They nearly fell through the screen door, the sound of laughter greeting their ears. Dean looked up to see a young woman standing with their father, long black hair fixed in a loose ponytail and dark grey eyes. Sarah.

"Dean, do you remember Sarah Blake?" asked John, holding out a hand in gesture to the girl.

"Well, the Sarah Blake I remember was a skinny little kid with pigtails," Dean replied, standing more upright than Sam had seen him do in years. "But you are no kid."

"Well, I should say not," remarked Sarah with a slight smirk. "How are you, Dean? It's really nice to see you again."

"You too," Dean finally allowed a real smile to form on his lips. This was the girl that his brother was going to spend the rest of his life with... "Let me ask, why did you pick my geek brother? You could have had your pick of anyone in the district!"

"Dean!" Sam smacked him on the back of the head. "Sorry, Sarah."

Sarah just laughed. "Now that's the Dean Winchester that I remember!"

"I guess I am a known legend around here, huh?" Dean chuckled, meeting his father's eyes. John just smiled, shrugging his shoulders.

"I don't know. After you went into the Games," Sarah said slowly as the four of them moved into the living room. "We just got to know each other a bit more because Lisa was always over here with John and Sam to watch. She brought me with her a couple of times and it is all history from there."

"We wanted to wait on getting married until you got home," Sam said as he lowered himself down onto the sofa beside his fiancée. Their fingers twined together and that was Dean noticed the simple gold band on Sarah's hand.

"Well, I gotta get you two something. Dad, will you help me?"

"Sure," John smiled from his seat.

"Dean, you don't have to get us anything," Sarah protested.

"Nonsense. It's your wedding. You've got to have a nice gift from the brother."

"And the best man, remember?" Sam says, stunning Dean into silence.

"Wait a minute, you can't have me be the best man," Dean said once he found his tongue again. "That's ridiculous. Dad should be the best man."

"You're his brother, Dean," John says. Dean's eyes find his and he can see something that he hadn't seen since their mother had died.

Final peace.

* * *

The town square was thriving. There was a bustle of activity every which way he turned. It was almost like...the world could be normal once again.

The Hob was where it was always, tall and proud. It looked like it had some work done on the front.

Connected off to the side was a tiny building with a single window. He could only guess what this was because it had not been there before he had gone into the arena.

He walked slowly across the compound, making for the Hob. But the small building off to the side was bugging him. He wondered what it could be for a second and then he remembered Sam telling him that Ellen Harvelle had put together a bar that was connected to the Hob.

Without further adieu, he moved through the creaky door and into the bar. He spotted a small blonde behind the counter, wiping down glasses.

"Sorry, we're closed," said the blonde, not looking up from her glasses. "We open at four so if you want to-Dean?"

"Hi, Jo."

* * *

**Just because I wanted to be mean, I left Jo until the very end. **

**So, it looks like all is finally right in the world for Dean. He is home and District 12 is finally thriving, having benefited from the double win. Of course, things are different now and everyone is grown up. But of course, this is Supernatural/Hunger Games. Nothing is right in the world. **

**I'm sorry about the long delay. Tons on my plate and I am finally getting back to my writing! I hope you wonderful people liked and will grace me with some reviews. Don't be afraid to speak up. **

**Be sure to check out my short prequel to this, "the boy in the rain" which is told from Jo's point of view. It's about that one moment where they meet for the first time and she saves Dean from starvation. **


	4. the cottage

_**the cottage**_

* * *

The blonde slowly walks out from behind the counter, setting the glass and the rag down as she went.

Dean finally gets a good look at her, the first good look since their infamous Victory tour. Yeah, he had seen her when she had come to mentor the past tributes but they had barely spoken. It had been like this for a long time and it was killing him slowly.

That was exactly what Azazel had wanted. He had wanted this to happen, being cut off from his family and friends. He had missed Sam growing up and had come back to find an adult getting ready to spend the rest of his life with the woman of his dreams. He had missed getting to know his father all over again and had returned to find a man that had somewhat put himself back together despite never knowing what exactly had happened to his older son. He had missed all of those Saturday afternoons with Lisa, hunting and just spending time with each other.

He had spent that time with Jo and didn't even know how she had been dealing. They had spent three weeks in the arena, trying to keep each other alive and he hadn't been allowed to speak to her since.

What the hell is he going to say to her now?

Jo gives a small look of apprehension, like she's unsure if it's really him or not.

And then she slaps him right across the face.

It's like fire has licked his cheek. His hand comes up to cradle it and he goes to glare at her in shock and in anger. But suddenly he is catching her as she throws herself into his arms.

"Real glad to see you," she breathed as she pulled away. "It's about damn time."

"Then what was that slap for?!"

"For leaving without letting me know, dimwit," she snapped. "Is it really that hard to pick up a phone? To pull me aside while we are preparing those kids for lunchmeat?"

"Jo, damn it, you don't know a thing about it!" he suddenly growled. The small girl didn't even flinch. "And I'd like to keep it that way."

Jo glared furiously at him for a split second before her features softened slightly. "What are you doing here? I didn't think I'd ever see you back here again."

Dean found himself glancing around the bar. Despite being pretty large, he wouldn't put it past Azazel that the whole place was bugged, especially now.

"Come on, let's go get some air."

* * *

They are walking down that same road that he would always take to get to the Hob. To trade, to sell game to Bill Harvelle, to make his own living to protect his family. He had a distant memory of his mother bringing him down here one time to visit the Harvelles and to buy some cakes from them. It wasn't until after she had died that he returned here alone for the first time, soaking wet from the pouring rain and trying to sell some of Sam's ratty old baby clothes. This had been that tiny road where he had met Joanna Beth Harvelle for the first time.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," he found himself saying quietly. "But it was too dangerous."

"Dean, you and I made it through the most dangerous thing possible. We kept each other alive. What exactly did you think that you could protect me from now?"

His eyes find hers in the afternoon light. "He threatened to have your whole family killed if I didn't abide to his wishes."

She steps back, staring. "What?"

"Azazel didn't buy our whole 'lovers' thing-obviously-and he saw that because of what I did at the end, holding out that arrow head to you, it was the spark of what could be a rebellion on his hands. He couldn't kill me and he couldn't kill you because that would definitely start a rebellion. So he had to shut me up." It all came out in such a rush of words that he was almost out of breath.

The two just looked at each other, neither saying a word, for several seconds.

And then Jo took in a deep breath of her own, taking a tiny step forward so they were inches apart.

"So what do we do now?"

"Pardon?"

"Dean, you've missed a lot in the six years you have been gone-"

"Obviously! Sam's all grown up, he's getting married. You and your family own a bar now-"

"Dean, stop. That's not what I meant," Jo cut in gently.

"What do you mean?"

She shakes her head, running a hand through her messy hair. "There's a lot going on," she sighs. "Hey, listen. I have something for you," she adds.

And with that, she carefully pulls a tiny pouch out of her bag. The instant that daylight sees the little pouch, he recognizes it.

"You-" he stares for a second, pointing a finger. "You kept it?"

"And why wouldn't I?" Jo says quietly. "You asked me to hang onto it." She pulls on the delicate string wrapped around the end of the pouch, tipping it over into her open palm. The amulet spills out, resting gently in her hand. She then takes his callused bruised hand in hers and presses the necklace into his palm, closing his fingers over it.

"You didn't have to keep it," Dean says softly, staring at the amulet.

"It's been living in the bottom of my bag for the last six years," Jo whispers. "It's time it got back to where it belongs."

* * *

They walk slowly back to town, about an arm's length apart, on that dirt road. When the sight of the town square greets his eyes, he finds himself following her back to where the bakery still stands after those amount of years.

"Are your parents here?" he asks as she gently takes his hand.

"My dad's here. My mom's visiting some friends for the day. Would you like to come and say hello?"

He stops once they reach that back door where he used to come all the time, a line of squirrels hanging off of his belt, a bucket full of wild blueberries in his hand.

"I'm not sure. Does he-?"

"Dean, my father doesn't think you are a traitor. Neither does my mother. You'd be surprised how many people think what happened, actually happened," Jo says. "Come on. I think my dad just got done preparing a few pies."

Of course, at the sound of the word 'pie', how could he refuse?

"Apple?"

A lovely smile crosses her lips. "Of course."

With that, he allows her to gently pull him through the screen door.

Bill Harvelle is currently sweeping up flour from the kitchen floor, the white powder coating him from head to toe. His mop of sandy hair is tinged white and he looks like he has aged at least twenty years.

"Dad?"

His head shoots up and more flour clouds into the air. A smile breaks across his lips at the sight of his daughter to which immediately turns into surprise when he glimpses Dean.

The twenty four year old tries to look as inconspicuous and small as possible as Bill sizes him up with his eyes.

"It's nice to have you back, Dean Winchester," Bill says carefully, catching his daughter's glare as he opens his mouth.

"Thank you, sir," Dean answers, keeping his back to the door, ready to make a quick escape.

"I do have to say one thing though," Bill begins.

"Dad!" Jo starts forward but Bill holds up a hand, silencing her.

"Jo honey, be quiet," Bill's tone is more forceful and it sends his daughter right into silence. Dean can't help the surprise in his face, having never seen anyone, not even himself, be able to get Jo to shut up. Bill turns back to him, his thick shoulders squared. "Dean, you shouldn't have just left without a word. Many of us have never lost faith in you," he says.

"You haven't? I mean, why? I mean-" He is stammering and feeling more and more like an idiot as each word comes out of his mouth.

"And, I have wanted to thank you. You kept my daughter alive in that arena and you made sure that she made it home to us. I owe you my life," he finishes slowly. "And right now, I offer you my friendship." It is then when Bill extends a floury hand.

Dean stares at the hand for a second, unable to really process what has just happened. And then he takes it in his own, wincing slightly at just how strong the man is.

"Thank you, sir."

* * *

When he arrives back to the Victor's Village, he finds himself looking around for Jo's home. If you are a victor, you have to take a home in the village, even if you chose to keep devoting your time to a store or shop outside of the tiny town. Jo's parents still lived in the bakery but Jo lived in the mansion right here.

He spots it, realizing that it's right across the street from his home. The house is two stories high, dark wood paned with a jutted out bay window on the second floor. Flowers circle the front walk and beautiful rose bushes stand proud and glowing around the side. He should have known that she lived there.

"Dean? Earth to Dean!"

"Huh?"

He realized then that his little brother-well, not so little anymore, had been standing beside him the whole time without him even noticing.

"You looked kind of spaced out. You all right?" Sam asks.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he says quickly. He turns and realizes that their father is standing in the driveway by the new car that he had not noticed before when he had arrived home. "What's up?"

"Are you ready for a little trip?" Sam asks.

"A little trip? Where are we going?"

"To dinner," Sam answers simply before taking his brother's hand and practically dragging him to the car.

* * *

They drive for what seems like forever, Dean becoming more and more fidgety by the minute. And then John pulls the car onto a long dirt road that becomes increasingly familiar by each mile.

It is a road that leads to the old trails that he used to take six years ago when he would go hunting. Sometimes he would walk along this road to get back to the main trail. But if he went the other way, the road would take him to a row of very old cottages that had been there for probably over sixty years. Only one was still standing now, one made of concrete. He and Lisa would meet up there when it was too windy to hunt for more than thirty minutes at a time, build a small fire and try to warm up before heading back into the wintery abyss.

John does exactly what Dean is afraid of and pulls the car past this house. It amazes him that they are able to get this far by car due to the road ending almost a mile back. He parks the car in the trees and the Winchesters pile out.

"Dad-Sam, what the hell is going on?" Dean demands for the last time.

"Just hold on a second, Dean," John says. "You'll find out in a moment."

John leads the way up the weed covered walk and raps sharply on the door, only once. The door opens slightly and then wider. Dean finds himself staring up at a very familiar looking man.

"Is that who I think it is?" Dean asks his brother quietly.

"Yep. That's Ash."

Ash was a frequent inhabitant of the Hob. He did some occasional trading with Dean back in the day for a rabbit or two but mostly bought liquor. Dean remembered seeing him with Bobby Singer a few times as well but that was about it.

They strode through the door, finding a few more familiar faces. Dean's jaw hit the floor when he sees Lisa as well as her slightly younger brother Adam.

"What the hell is going on?" Dean finally demands once the heavy door is closed behind. "Why won't anyone tell me anything?"

"After Sam figured out what was going on after you didn't come back from the Games, that is what set everyone off. For the past six years, we have been carefully piecing together a bit of a rebellion, holding onto hope that you would come back to help us," Lisa says.

"A rebellion?" Dean says, taking in more faces. There's probably about thirty people jammed in this tiny one roomed cottage. "Are you serious?"

"The Eighty-First Hunger Games is in seven months. We have to make sure that that doesn't happen," says a voice from the other side of the room. Dean looks up in time to see a man walking towards him, obvious early thirties with a tiny sapphire stud in his nose. "I don't want to dress another set of tributes for slaughter."

Castiel.

"Cas?" he chokes as the older man pulls him into a tight hug.

"Hey, Dean," Cas smiles as they step apart.

"I'm sorry, this is just all so sudden-" Dean begins. His attention focuses on the others in the room once again. "What kind of a rebellion?"

"To end the Capitol," supplies a third voice. Dean looks up in time to see Ellen Harvelle slowly approaching them. So this is the 'visiting friends' thing that Jo was talking about. Her husband and daughter were there too, Jo practically hiding behind her father's large form. "To stop the Hunger Games. Castiel here is one of the first rebels of the Capitol but I think he always was. They do not know that he is here in fact."

"I'm supposed to be on my annual 'unwind' vacation," Castiel says. "To get ready for the new Games and design what I am going to have for the tributes."

"Are you suggesting that we go to war?" Dean asks, glaring at Ellen over the top of Castiel's head. "Now? It's over, Ellen. Why can't things go back to the way they were?"

A war. A war right now would be the worst thing in the world. They would all be dead. After what he had seen in his six years at the Capitol-

No. No freaking way!

"Dean-" John says quietly.

"No!" Dean bursts out. "No! You have no idea, absolutely no freaking idea what they can do to you if they capture you. Castiel, I would think that you of all people would get that," he growls. "I am not going to lead you to your slaughter. Not after District 13."

District 13 had tried to rebel back in the Dark Days and had been totally annhilated. There were no known survivors and no one ever really spoke of it again.

"Dean, this isn't about District 13. There are strokes of rebellion in other districts," Ash says. "After the news got out that the Tiger was coming home-"

"The Tiger?!" Dean nearly shouts. "What, am I symbol of this?"

"That's how it is, tiger," Bobby says from his perch near the window. "Azazel's plan was to get everyone to forget about you after your Games. For everyone to think that you were a traitor. Well, maybe in other districts but not here."

"Well, I'm sorry. I'm not doing it. You find yourself another Tiger."

And with that, Dean swerves on his foot and stomps out of the tiny cottage, disappearing into the night.

* * *

"Dean! Dean!"

He tries to ignore his friend's calls but of course, he stops on the trail.

"What the hell do you want, Lisa?!" he storms, much more angry than he intends to be. "I'm home for two days and you blab it all over the district what happened!"

"Dean, I didn't say a word!" Lisa snaps once she catches up. "They just-everyone knew, Dean. Everyone in there knew you and knew that you would never do what what Azazel made you do without being coerced. That's why they think that you would be the best person to help us. To lead us in this."

"Why are you going along with this, Lis?" Dean demands. "I would think you of all people wouldn't want anything to do with this?"

Lisa's hands are at her sides and she looks so woebegone that he can hardly stay angry at her.

"I watch Sarah get ready for her wedding, I chase around my little sister and brother, I see my mother work so hard to provide for us and I know that I can't live like this anymore. I love what we had and what we still have, hunting every Sunday and bringing in the food for our families and trading at the Hob. I love it all," she says. "But I can't sit by and see Sarah and Sam's kids' names go into those glass balls at the Reaping. I can't see any of my kids have to go through it themselves. If there is a chance that I can stop this, even at the cost of my own life, than so be it."

He stares at her for a second, shocked at what has just come out of her mouth but then unable to control himself.

He kisses her.

Dean just closes the distance between them in three great strides and presses his lips to hers in the most delicate but sweetest of kisses. The kind of ones that make your toes curl. You get the picture.

"What was that for?" she whispers once they both come up for air. His forehead rests against hers and he breathes heavily.

"I've been meaning to do that for a while," he says, trying to ignore the flash of guilt in his belly.

She sighs, leaning her forehead into his chest. Her cheek brushes against the amulet that is snug against his heart. She takes in another breath as the words slip from her lips.

"I love you."

He rests his chin on top of her glossy dark locks, pulling her closer. "I know you do."

* * *

**Oh, dear...tsk, tsk, tsk. **

**So, Dean's only been back home for a couple of days and he learns of this secret organization that is trying to build a rebellion to overthrow the Capitol. Well, how the hell is he supposed to react to that? Especially with the fact that his twenty year old brother, his best friend, father, all of them knew about it and didn't even bother to tell him. Hm...**

**Dean kissing Lisa, oh, my! Dean is so confused right now. I feel so sorry for him. He is trying to deal with his feelings for Lisa, who has been his best friend and confidante for quite some time. Of course, it's like with Katniss and Gale. Everyone thinks that they are meant to be together. And then there's Jo, who he has come to care about very much. **

**I know Dean and Jo's reunion wasn't like anyone expected. It was boring as a matter of fact. But it will be spiced up soon because of his growing feelings for her and his confusion. Look for some of that spice in an upcoming chapter entitled 'wedding'. Heehee. **

**I love all of you guys so much and I am so sorry for not updating in quite some time. Way too much on my plate and a huge case of writer's block that was finally cured last night. I had an idea pop into my head and I just sat down and wrote this whole chapter. I was like-yay! Finally! This two parter story is my baby and I am just so glad that it's finally working out well. **

**Again, thanks to all of you. Keep a look out for updates because they will be coming. **


	5. a visitor

_**a visitor**_

* * *

She freezes in his embrace.

"Lisa-" he starts but she gently pulls away.

"No, no. It's okay," she says. "I shouldn't have sprung it that way."

"I'm sor-" he tries again but this time, she holds up a gentle hand to silence the words from his lips.

"Don't be, Dean. It's okay," she says once again. He can't ignore the disappointment in her eyes. "Come on, let's go back to the meeting. You need to hear this."

"All right," Dean says, allowing her to guide him back.

* * *

Less than a year after his and Jo's Games, that lighting of the fire had begun. Not just here in District 12 but in other Districts as well. Azazel had hoped that Dean's silence would equal silence in the districts but no such luck.

The underground rebellion had been stirring up for quite some time now. They were waiting for the perfect time to finally bring it to the surface and now was the right time.

"The right time?" Dean repeated. "Why now? Why me?"

"Because you are the one that fought so long and hard in the Games, Dean," Ash says. "You sacrificed so much to keep Jo alive, everyone remembers what you did when Ben died-"

Dean's heart thuds painfully at the sound of Ben's name. There wasn't a night that goes by where he doesn't think about that boy.

"So, you're saying I should use Ben's death as justification for this?" Dean replies, unable to keep the scowl off of his face.

"Not use his death," comes another voice that he hadn't noticed before. Dean whips around to see another man making his way through the crowded room of bodies.

"Who the hell are you?" he snaps.

"Dean, my name is Uriel. I am from the Capitol."

* * *

"You don't have to do this, Dean."

He grimaces weakly, rolling over to his side. His brother comes into his view and he lets out another sigh.

"It's seems that it's expected," Dean says. "What choice do I have?"

"There's always a choice, Dean," Sam states quietly, leaning his head against the doorframe. "You can back out. They can find another 'tiger'."

Dean then sat up on the bed, looking right at his brother. "I hate to admit this but they do have a point. If this can be over, than it can be over. You never have to see a child of yours be Reaped. You never have to worry about any of it ever again."

Sam eyes him apprehensively. "So you're saying that you want to do it? Everything that Uriel said that would come with this-"

Dean shifts on his bed, finally swinging his legs out and standing up. "I don't know, Sam. I spent six years in practical captivity so something like this wouldn't happen. They obviously don't need me if they've gotten this far without me."

The younger brother lets out a huff of annoyance. "Then tell them that, Dean. This is your life that you are talking about here. Nobody should tell you how to run it. Nobody should ask you to risk it. You've done that enough."

The elder Winchester lets out another irritated huff. "Sammy, can we not talk about this anymore? We have more important things to worry about."

Sam's brows rise so high that they are in of disappearing into his hair. "What could be more important that you serving yourself up for the Capitol once again?"

The words trail down his spine, sending a shiver. Dean lets them go and winks playfully at his brother.

"Like what I'm going to get you for your wedding!"

* * *

"This is ridiculous. Seriously, Sarah and I don't need a car!" "Did you sprout wings that I don't know about, little brother? How else are you two going to be getting around? Now, take your pick. Really."

Sam stares around the lot, his eyes taking in all the different types and colors. In his mind, he keeps going over and over on how ridiculous this is, but then he spots it. It's perfect.

"Let's take a look at that," he says, pointing to a car resting in the corner of the lot, practically pushed to the side.

Dean glances at the grizzled man behind him, he and Bobby sharing a small gaze as Sam takes off across the lot like a little kid who had seen Santa Claus.

"I cannot believe you are doing this, tiger," Bobby smirks.

Dean leans back on his heels, his arms folded in front of his chest. His eyes never leave Sam as he walks around the car, his own eyes alight with excitement.

"It's the least I can do," he murmurs. "That's one good thing winning the Hunger Games has given me, lots of money. Besides, look at how excited he is."

For the first time ever, Dean sees Bobby's eyes soften for just a moment. He gives the boy a clumsy pat on the shoulder before allowing his hand to drop back to his side.

"He understands, kid," Bobby whispers. "Sam gets it."

Dean finds that he can't swallow. A lump forces his way up his throat and he hurriedly pushes it down.

"That's the one thing I always wanted for him. I wanted him to be oblivious, unaware of all of this. That's why-that's why I did what I did."

Bobby's eyes are unusually gentle. "I know, boy. I know."

And oddly enough, this crotchety drunk is the only one that actually does get it. Sam may understand and try to give Dean his space and whatnot but Bobby is the only one that understands what it's like to experience this, to wake up screaming from a nightmare of an opponent's blood dripping down your hands after you have just sent an arrow through their throat.

It doesn't matter how much time will pass, it will be there forever.

But with love, with family, maybe it can become a little easier.

"Hey, Dean! Bobby! Get over here and look at this!"

The other two approach, Dean watching Sam's excited smile with a tiny one of his own. He knew that all he had to do was get him here to this lot before he gave in on the whole 'car' idea.

The car was nice too. It was a really nice one, quite old though. Long and sleek and black. There were some patches of rust that could be easily fixed up but otherwise, it was perfect.

"What kind?" Dean asks, glancing at the rear.

Bobby peers a bit closer, his eyes finding the emblem.

"Ah, it looks like a '67 Impala."

* * *

He knew that it was going to come to an end soon.

The last thing that he wanted was to start a rebellion. He didn't want to be the face of whatever the hell it was, he didn't want to be the martyr. If he died, everyone would fight harder.

Azazel was holding onto him for this. Azazel had kept him alive for this.

Ah, hell.

Might as well take these moments and enjoy them.

Let the 81st Hunger Games begin.

* * *

"Where's Sam?"

He looks up to see his father's grizzled face glancing at him from his place at the counter. He watches for a moment as his father continues to slice vegetables, tossing them into a pot on the stove beside him. He doesn't remember the last time that he saw his father cook, let alone even get near food.

"_Now you listen to me," he said a little more forcefully than he had intended. "You have to be there for Sam. He is going to need you more than ever now," he began. "You cannot disappear. You cannot run away. I am not going to be there to clean up your messes anymore. You have to be there, all right?" _

He hates to admit it to himself but maybe his leaving had been the best thing for John Winchester. He had been there, he had been a father to Sam while he was gone. He didn't see any signs of John checking out any time soon and for a moment there, he could find a bit of peace.

"He took the Impala over to Sarah's," Dean responds softly. "He's crazy about that thing."

"It was a nice thing for you to do, son," John says with a small smile.

"Ah, hell. I can't seem to give away this money so why not?"

John snorts disbelievingly but doesn't push it any further.

That's when the doorbell rings.

John sets down his knife and wipes his hands on a dishtowel. "I'll get it. You finish doing that." With a heavy step, he disappears through the door.

Dean smirks lightly, picking the knife back up. Just as the blade begins it's descent into the carrot, he hears his father's voice.

"Dean? Could you come out here please?"

He sets the knife down and turns, seeing his father standing in the doorway to the kitchen, a look that he can't quite read on his face.

"What's going on?"

John shakes his head, gently curling his hand in a gesture. "Just come here, please."

He lifts his long legs off of the stool he was sitting on and gets to his feet, following his father through the low archway and into the living room.

Where President Azazel was waiting.

Dean feels his heart jump into his mouth, thumping away in agony. He swallows quickly, trying to push down the bile that is starting to creep up his throat.

"Hello Dean," Azazel grins, showing him a full mouth of pearly white teeth. "How nice to see you again."

With his teeth clenched, Dean gives a nod. He doesn't even dare open his mouth for fear of what will come spilling out.

John sees the fear and the anger immediately, sensing it. It practically fills up the room.

"Um, can I get you anything?" he directs at Azazel. "Coffee or whiskey?"

Azazel shakes his head, barely even giving a glimmer of attention towards the elder Winchester. "No thank you, sir. I was actually hoping if young Mr. Winchester and I could speak in private?"

John's eyes blaze into Dean's. Dean gives his father a tiny nod and John extends a hand. "You can use my study," he says, gesturing towards a wooden door off to the side of the hallway.

"Thank you so much," Azazel replies softly, not even looking at John. His light grey eyes are focused right on Dean, even as he turns and leads the way into the study.

Dean follows him after a moment, not wanting to give the bastard the satisfaction. He shoots his father another look before disappearing into the study after the president.

He lightly shuts the door behind him, happily closing it in the face of Azazel's guards.

He stops for a second, breathing in and out.

"What do you want?"

Azazel leans over John's desk, his fingers thumbing through one of the many journals that his father keeps. Dean is tempted to snatch the book right out of his hands but forces himself to stay still. He really doesn't need to be any higher up on the president's bitch list.

"Dean, Dean, Dean. Can't old friends just come and visit old friends?"

"You're not my friend," Dean spits out. "Now what the hell do you want?"

Azazel gently closes John's journal, straightening up to look Dean in the eyes. "I came to talk."

"About what?" The dread is slowly starting to grow in the younger Winchester's belly.

Azazel slowly moves out from behind the desk, one hand deep in his jacket pocket. "About life. About love. About your family."

The hackles start to go up. "What about my family?"

"They certainly are a beautiful one, aren't they?" Azazel says. "Father finally out of his depression. Brother happy and getting married in a month."

How the hell does he know all of this?

"It would be a shame if something happened to your brother's pretty little bride between then and now."

That did it.

"Listen to me, if you lay a finger on Sarah-"

Azazel holds up his hands in surrender. "Oh, I wouldn't think of it, Dean."

Dean falls back on his heels, eyes wide. "Then what the hell is all of this? Why are you here?!"

Azazel just smirks. He freaking smirks!

"I hear through the grapevine that there is something going on underground."

Dean's heart jumps into his mouth.

"I came to ask you to put an end to it."

Dean remains silent.

"I'm sure you can do that, can you not?" the president asks.

Dean still stares. The words that he wants to say will not form on his tongue. There is an unseen force, something barreling around inside of him, that's telling him to keep his big mouth shut. He can practically hear Sam cackling at how that's a first.

And different words form. Words that he was surprised were coming out of his mouth.

Lies.

* * *

"It was nice to talk to you again, Dean. I'm glad you are doing well."

Well, this man should have been an actor instead of a murderous politician.

Dean pulls a faux smile on his face as he walks behind the older man.

"You too, sir. You too."

The president stops at the door where his guard is awaiting. He sees John Winchester standing in the doorway of the kitchen, his eyes hard and wary.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Winchester."

John gives a quick jutted nod but doesn't reply.

"Oh, and Dean?"

A sliver of ice runs up Dean's spine at the sound of his name.

"I know about the kiss."

His voice is so low that only he can hear it.

And then he's gone, almost like he was never there.

* * *

The for some reason sober mentor lets out a grumble at the sound of his phone ringing.

"God, what the hell is it?" Bobby moans, a hand snapping up to grab at the buzzing phone. He lets out a second grumble when he doesn't recognize the number. "Who the hell is this?!" he snarls, finally hitting the accept call button.

"Bobby, it's me. Where the hell are you?"

"Dean? Dean, what's the matter?" the mentor cannot ignore the panic in the kid's voice.

"It's—it's not good. Just tell me where you are."

* * *

**It is evil of me for not updating in six freaking months. I hit such a wall with this story and when I kept opening up the documents, I stared at the blinking cursor for twenty minutes before I would close it. **

**I feel that this is too similar to the book but I had to have Azazel issue another threat. It's not all about Jo and Dean pretending to be lovers but it's also about the fact that he knows that there's an underground rebellion beginning and Dean could be the leader of it. It's a low threat and it's not just towards Sam but it's towards Sarah and honestly, there really isn't going to be any skating around it anymore. Dean's pissed. And when Dean's pissed you better get the hell out of the way. **

**If there is anyone still interested, drop me a line. Would love to hear what you think. Thanks guys. **


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